


And Her Heart Ached

by booksnerdharrypotter



Series: throne of angst [2]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Book 3: Heir of Fire, aedion arrives in rifthold, slight AU, the king is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 17:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15296424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksnerdharrypotter/pseuds/booksnerdharrypotter
Summary: Celaena Sardothien had tried so hard to hide her true identity.Aedion Ashryver had tried so hard to find his lost queen.





	And Her Heart Ached

**Author's Note:**

> this is a slight au set in heir of fire!!

Celaena Sardothien was proud of the fact that she was able to handle surprises quite well. They almost never occurred in her presence, and she was known for almost perfect regalia when confronted. That was, of course, until Aedion Ashryver stalked into the Great Hall to meet with the King. 

She was seated at a table with Dorian and Chaol, eating her lunch of roast meats and vegetables. Gods, she was going to miss such _good_ food during her travels to Wendlyn. When she finally went, that was. A brutal storm had hit the coast, delaying her inevitable journey to kill the Ashryver royals- and seek out Queen Maeve of the Fae. Celaena was supposed to be studying everything and anything to help with her mission, but, well, her heart really wasn’t in it.

Across from her, Chaol kept throwing harrying glances in her direction. He hadn’t taken the news of her being Fae all too well.

 “You look like you’re going to be sick,” Dorian said to the captain. Celaena nearly snorted. If only the prince knew. That’s when the sound of beating swords and the crashing of shields echoed throughout the otherwise near-silent Great Hall.

 And in stalked Aedion Ashryver, the Wolf of the North and her-

 Gods.

 What in the dark god’s ever-loving realm was _he_ doing here? Celaena nearly vomited. She hadn’t seen Aedion in over ten long, brutal years. But she had to leave the room, get out before anyone noticed how similar the King’s Champion and infamous General looked. When her whole masquerade would go to complete and utter shit.

 Maybe no one would notice, Celaena thought, if she made no sudden movements and drew no attention to herself. She would sneak out once the general had taken his seat and no one would be any wiser.

 Chaol was the first to move, standing at the dais to protect his king. He sauntered forward, glaring at Aedion. Perhaps there was tension fraught between the two of them; it certainly seemed inclined that way.

 “Majesty,” the Wolf said, sketching a bow and grinning like all hell. His voice was a shock to Celaena’s system. He was a purebred warrior, in every sense of the word.

 The king replied, the two striking up one hell of a conversation. Celaena didn’t hear a word they uttered, didn’t think to even listen. Aedion was here. In Rifthold. With her. In the _exact same room_. Her protector, her promised blood-sworn, her godsdamn cousin. She couldn’t even breathe, let alone think, over the sound of her beating heart and the rushing of blood in her ears.

 And then she shook her head. She was Celaena Sardothien, Adarlan’s greatest assassin, and she would _not_ be afraid.

 Aedion was talking once more. “Gifts from the North, courtesy of the last rebel camp we sacked. You’ll enjoy them.”

 This was all her fault. A prince of the Ashryver line was destroying his own people after she had just abandoned him. She didn’t blame him, couldn’t blame him, after all she had done.

 The king waved his hand at the small boy holding the satchel filled with loot from Terrasen’s people. Her people. “Send them to my chambers. Your _gifts_ , Aedion, tend to offend polite company.”

 And the court nobles, the king, had the gall to laugh. Even Aedion chuckled.

 Dorian’s father continued, “I have a council meeting tomorrow; I want you there, General.”

 Aedion bowed, muttering his acquiesce. And that’s when Celaena noticed the black ring glinting on the general’s finger, her heart shattering at the sight. Chaol recognised it too, quickly recovering to smoothen his fine features. He ambled back down to the table when dismissed, sinking heavily into the chair.

“Gifts indeed,” Dorian muttered, frowning. “Gods, he’s insufferable.”

 It wasn’t _all_ his fault, and Celaena said as much to the men across from her.

 Sooner than either could reply, Aedion meandered over to where she sat with the captain and the prince. Her face heated and heart beat erratically. She couldn’t face him; she had to get away before he-

 Before he recognised her for the coward she was. Before Chaol and Dorian caught sight of the two and realised _exactly_ what she had been trying to keep concealed.

 “You two were sitting at this same table the last time I saw you. Good to know some things don’t change,” the general said, eyeing the men across from her. His voice changed, turning almost gleeful with mischief. Memories burst forth, fighting for foresight: of sparring and teasing and yelling at other children. “I see you’ve made an addition. You must be the esteemed King’s Champion.”

 Celaena let out a heavy breath, angling her face so he could not see what she looked like.

 “I am,” she said, her voice without any of its usual fervour. Dorian flashed her a glance, his sapphire eyes tight with worry and curiosity.

 “Don’t worry- I don’t bite unless you want me to.” She could hear the glee in his speech, the smile on his face. It hurt, so _so_ much. She had to get out of there before she did something irrational. Like punch Aedion or hug him or never let him go. He took the empty chair beside her, digging into the food with such heated enthusiasm as though he had never eaten before in his life.

 And then came the assessment from the others. Chaol had _still_ hardly uttered a word of nicety since he had discovered her heritage. She had planned to give him the information that would help him uncover who she truly was just before dispatching to Wendlyn. But now the truth was most likely going to come out. Then all three would understand her for the lying, cheating filth she was.

 She couldn’t breathe.

 Aedion continued to smile. “I like the new scar, Captain.”

 Celaena blanched, her ivory skin paling. It was the scar she had given him when she relented herself to the killing calm on the night Nehemia had died.

 “I should be going,” she said, pushing away her plate. “I have some more things that are requiring packing.”

Celaena turned her head ever so slightly to see Chaol and Dorian staring widely at the two of them. Oh, she had to leave now before things got even worse. She stood from her seat and made to leave before a warm, calloused hand gripped her wrist. It felt like a manacle, wrapped tight around her skin and delicate bones. Celaena couldn’t let Aedion see her, even though her heart begged to take one long, last look at his handsome face, so similar to her own. Because… because even if he loathed her with every last bit of him, she would do everything in her power to protect him. As his friend, as his cousin, as his long-lost queen.

With every bit of strength Celaena possessed, she made to pull her wrist from his tight- and so very familiar- grip. His hand tightened imperceptibly.

 “Let go of me,” she said, her voice fracturing.

 “Celaena?” Dorian asked softly. He was still staring at the two, his head shifting, his mind connecting the dots. Chaol was too, she noticed. Shock and surprise filled every crevice of their fluctuating gazes, perhaps betrayal too. The assassin’s heart ached.

As she twisted, she glimpsed the blade Aedion wore. The Sword of Orynth. It was that, of all things, that made her falter. The heirloom of the royal family of Terrasen. Her father’s sword. Celaena’s face alighted in shock, her stare alive with challenge and heartache. Aedion followed her gaze and then looked back towards the assassin. Observing for the first time the features she bore. The same hair, the same eyes, the same body built for killing.

The general gasped. Softly. Quietly. “Aelin.”

Silence fell at their table and the vice-like grip on her wrist loosened. Like the rutting coward she was, Celaena Sardothien turned from her friends, her cousin. Let them believe what they wanted. She had to leave, had to get out. Before everything went to shit. And so, she did. Her feet followed the familiar path to doors that led to the gardens and fresh air beyond. But there were footsteps, heavy and not her own, that followed behind. Celaena kept going, passing through the track that her and Chaol had ran a lifetime ago. Where she had been jealous of all those women who had ogled at his tanned, muscular body.

A hand came down on her shoulder, spinning her around. Aedion stood there, his Ashryver eyes- the twin to her own- filling with tears. He pulled her in for a hug, crushing her body against his own.

“I found you,” he whispered. And it felt like home.

 


End file.
